It Wasn't Beyonce
by DubCliq
Summary: Beca, Chloe and Aubrey go to the Super Bowl. Future fic. (Prompted by Kay)


**It Wasn't Beyonce**

Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me. They belong to Kay Cannon and the producers of Pitch Perfect.

A/N: For Kay, who gave me this prompt. Most of the prompt is included in the story.

/

_It's not her fault._

Beca doesn't even_ like_ football.

Sure, she vaguely remembers sitting on her father's shoulders as her parents attended tailgates for the Ducks – her parents had met at the university after all – but that ended when her dad moved away seventeen years ago. She vaguely remembers because she has a number 14 Musgrave jersey that she sometimes wears to sleep (it's remarkably comfy).

(That being one of the few memories she has of her father may have contributed to her distaste for the sport.)

Besides, football meant huge crowds. Huge crowds of drunk, rowdy fans. And Beca has no interest being in the presence of grown men who like to start brawls just because _other_ men mishandled a ball (that isn't even shaped like a ball). Nor does she have the pep required to stand outdoors for hours and cheer for a bunch of men trying to knock each other over for a goal (or home run or whatever those things are called).

(She heard somewhere that there was a female version of the game – powerpuff or something – she could at least get behind _that_.)

Thank god Barden didn't have a football team (as far as she knew, the two years she was there anyway).

So when Aubrey bursts into the room – while Beca and Chloe were somewhat preoccupied – to announce, in between excited squeals, that she had scored four of the highly coveted Super Bowl tickets (while the other two scrambled to get some clothes on), Beca knew that the irritation that immediately crept up on her wasn't _just_ the result of being blue walled.

/

Beca knows just as much about the Super Bowl as the sport itself. She knows that the name makes absolutely no sense because the ball does not resemble a bowl any more than, well, an actual ball, and _Christ, _wouldn't it make more sense for the _Super Bowl _to be the champtionship game for _bowling_?

But Beca's here.

At the Super Bowl.

Dressed in red like she was ordered to (she drew the line at face paint).

She's really only here because her girlfriend's best friend is surprisingly – or not surprisingly, actually, considering how damn competitive she is – really into football in a slightly scary way, and her dad's firm's clients had extra tickets to their private box. And where Aubrey goes, Chloe goes, and these days, where Chloe goes, Beca goes.

(Chloe may have also agreed to a couple of sexual favors to get her to come.)

So here she is. At the Super Bowl. Trying not to be as awkward as possible at an event that she really could not care less about, counting down the minutes until Beyonce shows up – which, okay, she's pretty excited about, _because_ _it's Beyonce_ (though she'll never admit to it, because she's a badass DJ and should only know about – and not get overly excited over – songs that are overly mainstream).

But trying to look like she's actually interested in the game is really hard, because Chloe is very distracting in that damn Gore jersey, and Beca really can't help it, which brings her back to her original point:

_It's not her fault._

It's not her fault that her eyes keep drifting towards Chloe, noticing how the bright red jersey – that no doubt belonged to one of her older brothers – makes her fiery locks come to life while sort of dwarfing her frame. During the entire first half, Beca's hands itch with want, tempted to skim along the hemlines.

It's not her fault that Chloe looks really cute when she's excited, with her hair in pigtails and black paint under her eyes. And how easily she bounces back and forth between being completely adorable, and downright sexy, every time she jumps up and down, calling out some cheer that Beca doesn't care to pay attention to (because every time she jumps up, the oversized jersey rides up, exposing more of her long legs that her booty shorts did almost nothing to hide).

And the worst (best) part is, she's been shooting looks at Beca all night like she knows _exactly_ what she's doing.

Needless to say, Beca pays no attention to the game.

At some point, she tries to distract herself from ogling at her girlfriend by playing with her iPhone, but five minutes into Temple Run (and a few seconds away from beating her high score), Aubrey snatches the phone away and pockets it, shooting her a death glare. Beca glares right back, but when Chloe falls into her lap and wraps her arms around her neck, the DJ is momentarily distracted, and her arms instinctively go around her girlfriend's waist. The redhead, fairly tipsy from the beers they chugged beforehand, gives her a long kiss that both helps (and worsens) her frustration.

When Chloe pulls away, Beca glares at Jackson – a lacrosse player that the blonde's been dating since her Barden days – who is staring at them unabashedly, a smirk on his face. The redhead simply squeezes her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, which works for the most part.

Beyonce – and Destiny's Child, of course – is awesome, like everyone expects her to be. Phenomenal, even.

_It's fucking Beyonce_, after all.

Beca actually pays attention to the halftime show, secretly mouthing the words to the songs as the other two former Bellas sang their hearts out (and danced their butts off). At some point, she allows herself to be dragged into the dancing – because really, dancing is _more than okay _when you have Chloe Beale pressed up against you, dancing provocatively. Her arms are loosely wrapped around her neck, and her eyes have a teasing glint to them.

Oh yeah, Chloe _definitely _knows what she's doing.

The show ends all too soon, and Beca, of course, misses a good part of it because she was very _distracted_.

It's really not Beca's fault because she didn't want to be here in the first place. She's just tagging along, minding her own business, trying to get through the game in one piece so they can pack their bags and head back to LA the next morning.

It is _absolutely_ not Beca's fault that Chloe decides to grab her shortly after the show and drag her into what looks like an empty control room, then proceed to slam her against the door and start making out with her like there's no tomorrow – because Destiny's Child happens to sing another one of her ladyjams – and in the process, knock over a couple of things.

A crash – followed by the lights in the room going out – breaks the two apart, and they turn to see that some heavy looking object seems to have dropped on some cables, disconnecting some of them. Giggling, Chloe bends down, and, using her phone as a flashlight, attempts to fix the problem, plugging cables into whatever sockets they seemed to fit.

Hearing the crowd outside in an uproar, Beca knows that the cables must be for something pretty important. She is crazy nervous at this point, because _shit, _why does she _always_ seem to get into these kinds of trouble? She kneels and tries to help, but a couple of the connectors seem to be bent out of shape.

_Shit shit shit._

This is _so_ not her fault.

_Why the hell wasn't anyone guarding the freaking control room anyway!?_

Realizing their need to escape before they are discovered, she drags Chloe towards the door, peeking outside to see a bunch of people with headsets and clipboards running around frantically. Beca wonders why no one has thought about checking the control room at that point, but thanks every deity she knows that they haven't.

Her hand flies up to stifle the giggle that erupts from her girlfriend's mouth, and she turns to glare at her because _god damn it_, being arrested that one time four years ago was enough.

She's not completely sure what they broke, but she isn't curious enough to stick around to find out. When the coast is clear (thank god), she grabs Chloe's hand and runs, heading for the first exit she can find.

It's not until later, when Aubrey calls to yell at them for ditching her, that they find out that half the stadium lights had gone out, which halted the game for a little bit. Apparently, people are saying that it was due to all the lights and effects – but really, the awesomeness – that was Beyonce's show.

Beca has never been so happy to be on the receiving end of Aubrey's lecture.

As an aspiring DJ, she is all about giving credit where it's due, but this is one she definitely does not need. That incident was not Beca's fault. She will _not _be blamed for this.

_Nope._

Maybe it wasn't Beyonce, like everyone thought (or wants to believe). But it sure as hell wasn't Beca Mitchell either.

That blackout was all Chloe Beale.


End file.
